


Lost

by beltainefaerie



Series: Lost and Found [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Comfort Sex, Drunk Sex, First Time, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Melancholy, Porn with Feelings, Post-Reichenbach, Reminiscing, Sherlock's Funeral, Whiskey & Scotch, less porn more feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 08:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16930242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: The first time Greg and John find comfort as they try to cope with the sudden emptiness in their lives.





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cold Comfort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917747) by [janto321 (FaceofMer)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321). 



> This is a prequel to both other fics, so in a timeline order this would come first. 
> 
> As with the first story in this series and Merinda's fic Cold Comfort which inspired that one, this is not quite Johnstrade. Although it is tagged John/Greg, both are still wrapped up in Sherlock Holmes and the Reichenbach fallout.
> 
> Thanks Mer (janto321) for betaing.
> 
> Note: Both characters have been drinking in this fic and the alcohol is leading to impaired decision making not consent issues.

He wasn’t sure how they’d survived that. There was so much damn tension. So many things unsaid, so much pent up emotion from this grueling day. It needed release. Greg was amazed that he and John had kept it together for the service and the luncheon at the Holmes family cottage. They’d shared a ride back to London, mostly quiet, but Greg knew John was glad of the company. That had been the best part of the day. Honestly, he didn’t think either of them could face being alone. 

Greg hated to think of John sitting around Baker Street surrounded by Sherlock’s clutter, his empty chair, and had invited him back to his flat. John looked relieved. 

Greg had broken out the scotch and given a two fingered salute to keeping up appearances. 

“You kept it together all day, gave the best damn eulogy I’ve ever heard. You don’t have to pretend anything for me. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

John looked up gratefully, then nodded and took a sip. They shared Sherlock stories for hours, from the peculiar to the most eerily accurate deductions. Deep in their cups they’d admitted moments of doubt and their shared conclusion that he had been just who he said he was, this great man, who they’d both had the privilege to call their friend. The mood lightened with some of the most ridiculous things he’d done for cases. They laughed and eventually, finally let themselves cry as the level in the bottle dwindled. 

In the aftermath of tears they quieted, lost in their own thoughts. John broke the silence, “I never told him, Greg. If I had I don’t know if he would have-” He trailed off, unable to finish, but he didn’t have to. Greg understood.

“Don’t do that to yourself. If you’d told him, if I’d have trusted him... we’ll make ourselves crazy like that.” Greg needed to hear it himself as much as John did. He’d certainly been going round and round it in his head. And he hadn’t even been there. John’d had to watch it happen. _Jesus._

“But I’ll never-” John stopped, looking at Greg, then tipped forward, crushing their lips together. 

Greg was startled, but, God, it felt good. He kissed back, letting John lead. John’s tongue darted out, deepening their kiss and Greg let him, returned it fervently. John crawled into his lap and ground down. Was he… _Christ, John was hard._ Despite the alcohol, Greg could feel his body answering, his cock thickening with desire. 

He didn’t resist when John went for his zip. They both needed this. Needed to feel something. Remind themselves they’d survived. 

John pulled them both out, hardly pausing to breathe, and wrapped his hand around them and giving a few clumsy strokes. He broke their kiss to ask, “Do you have any slick?”

Greg groaned, then swallowed hard, nodding. John shifted off and slipped out of his trousers and pants as Greg went to his room, returning with the bottle and a condom. 

“How are we…?” Greg began, but John cut him off. 

“Just come here. Please.” John pulled him back to the couch and pulled down Greg’s trousers, pressing him back. John took the condom from him, unwrapping it and rolling it onto Greg. They both leaned in, resuming their kissing as John worked himself open. 

It couldn’t have been enough, but Greg felt John shift, lining him up, felt the head of his cock catch against John’s rim. “Fuck.”

John moaned and lowered himself slowly until he was fully seated, his breath labored as he adjusted to how Greg fit inside him. 

“Oh God,” John breathed.

Greg restrained himself from thrusting up, letting John take what he needed at his own pace. 

John cupped Greg’s head, pulling him back in for another kiss as he began to move, rocking his hips, riding Greg hard. 

Greg groaned and held John’s hips lightly, feeling the rise and fall of him. Nothing mattered but this, pleasure burning through him until John stilled, shuddering above him, streaking their stomachs with white. 

“Find your pleasure. Please. I can’t… don’t stop,” John begged and Greg did, bucking up against him. He held John tightly, listen to his cries and soft litany of “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t ever stop” pushing him closer and closer to the edge. John kissed him fiercely and his orgasm crashed over, flooding him with pleasure.

“God, yes, yes.” Greg cried out burying his face in John’s neck as they rode out the aftershocks. 

As they came down, Greg felt John stiffen in his arms. 

He pulled back to study John’s face. _Shit._

“Greg, I’m so-” was all John managed before he broke off, disentangled himself, and ran for the loo.”

Suddenly, Greg felt stone cold sober. His limbs chilled and he was very aware of sitting on his couch still in his button-up with his pants around his thighs. He cleaned himself up, binning the condom and changed into pyjamas. He grabbed a spare set for John, in case. It was awfully late for him to go home, though he wasn’t sure he’d want to stay. His face said this had been a mistake. Greg wasn’t sure how he should feel. 

John hadn’t emerged yet and Greg listened hard for any sign of what he should do. _Christ, was John crying?_

He heard a choked sob and a cough to cover it, then the water running. 

As the door handle turned, Greg tried to look busy arranging the blanket and clothes. He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome to stay the night. You can take the bed if you’d like. The couch is plenty comfortable for me and with your shoulder I figure you’d better... Christ, John I don’t know what to say…”

John scrubbed a hand over his tear stained face. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage like that.”

“You didn’t. I said ‘whatever you needed.’ I meant it.”

John gave a curt nod and picked up the clothes, heading into the bedroom to change. In the doorway, he turned, smiling sadly. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course. Get some rest, okay? We can talk in the morning. Or never mention it again. I’m following your lead here.”

John nodded, seeming small and lost as he shut the door to Greg’s room. 

Greg stared after him feeling much the same.


End file.
